


Disney Movies and Oversized Jumpers

by Please_Tommy_Please



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Maze, But mostly fluff, Chuck Ships It, Cuddling & Snuggling, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Humor, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Minho Ships It, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slow Build, Smut is confirmed, awwwww, because they're hormonal teenagers, but that's to be expected, slight angst, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4311894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Please_Tommy_Please/pseuds/Please_Tommy_Please
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho and Thomas have been best friends since they were just kids, surviving through middle school together and, now, high school. First day of school, and Thomas has taken a certain liking to the new student, and don't think Minho hasn't noticed.</p><p> Or, the overused high school AU no one asked for.</p><p>The lovely characters belong to the talented James Dashner. The plot, however, is mine.<br/>I have changed the title so many times, I am sorry. But I think I'm sticking with this one.<br/>This is only rated M because of the smut.</p><p>Currently on HIATUS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

_No matter what age. No matter the gender. Love is love._

 

Thomas pressed his forehead against the cool glass window, watching as houses and trees whizzed by. Minho, his best friend since they were in the fifth grade, insisted on driving him to school, something that had become something of a tradition between the two friends over the past year, considering Thomas didn’t have a car. But Minho was more than willing to give Thomas a lift wherever he needed to go.

Minho groaned as he pulled into the familiar parking lot of the Glade, the high school they went to. The students here were referred to as ‘Gladers’. Oh, how original _that_ was.

“Another year in hell,” Minho mumbled, scowling at the brick building through the windshield. Thomas grunted in agreement, hopping out of the truck and slinging his backpack over his shoulders.

“And we still have another year after this one. Come on, ya shank, we don’t wanna be late on our first day,” he smirked, leaning against the vehicle. Minho sighed in exaggerated annoyance, but got out anyways, knowing Thomas had a point.

“This is gonna suck,” Minho huffed. Thomas didn’t bother contradicting his statement. It was quite true. Minho and Thomas had gotten into the habit of doing everything together, just the two of them as friends and staying away from the jocks and popular kids. Not that Minho wasn’t a jock. He was the captain of the track team, in fact.

Thomas generally stayed away from the track team, though. They could be absolute dicks at times. He was, however, on the school’s soccer team, but he didn’t usually socialize with his teammates. Some of them considered him the best player on the team (besides the team captain, Gally, of course), and he had been repeatedly told that he needed to join the track team due to his agility and endurance. He refused, though.

“Good that. Well, time to face those shuck teachers and get the year over with,” Thomas sighed, looking up at the building in distaste, but walking through the doors all the same. Minho groaned again, but followed after him, a scowl etched on his face. Thomas scoffed at the look, weaving around a group of students.

“Come on, Min. I’m sure this year won’t be as bad as last,” he encouraged, but Minho kept right on frowning. Thomas rolled his eyes at his best friend’s childish behavior.

“Didn’t we get matching schedules?” Minho asked, the translation being: “I have no idea where I’m going, so I’m following you”. Precisely the reason Minho forced Thomas to memorize his schedule the past two years.

“Mostly,” admitted Thomas, “but after lunch, I have English and you have Math, and our last period is that switched around. And during second and third period, you’ve got art and I’ve got band.” He grinned mischievously. Thomas was the better artist of the two (though his art wasn't much better than Minho’s stick figures), but Minho had been forced into the class without much choice, so he usually had Thomas do his work for him. Not that he really minded doing it.

“I still don’t get what’s so cool about band, ya shuckin' geek,” Minho joked, shoving Thomas playfully. Thomas rolled his eyes. In middle school, he had been told he had a choice. Choir, Spanish class, or band. Naturally, he chose band. It wasn’t that bad, actually. He listed through the instruments, trying them all and playing fairly well on each one. In the end, he chose the trumpet, though. But, over the past few summers, he’d been learning to play the saxophone and the piano, and he dared say it was coming along nicely.

“I don’t get what’s so cool about calculus and trigonometry,” Thomas shot back, smirking. Both of them knew that even though Minho was the ‘procrastinator and party animal’ of the two, he was still surprisingly good at math, something Thomas despised (and probably always would), usually making Minho do his math for him. So, it all worked out in the end.

“Your point has been proven,” Minho admitted as they came to a halt in front of their first class classroom (which just so happened to be chemistry).

“Ugh. Hate chemistry,” the Asian frowned, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Thomas grumbled something in agreement, opening the door and entering the classroom. Not much changed over the summer.


	2. Welcome To The Glade

Minho and Thomas carried their bags with them to the back of the classroom, lining up along the wall as they did at the beginning of every year. Their asshole of a teacher treated them like five year olds and gave them assigned seats every single year, so the duo had kind of gotten used to it by now. And every year whoever you got sat with was your lab partner for the year, which could either be great or you could be in for the most miserable year of your life (which just so happened to Thomas last year when he got freaking Gally as his lab partner).

“This class always makes the rest of my day terrible,” Thomas grumbled, glancing around the room at the students steadily pouring in and lining up along the back of the classroom.

“Same. Except last year,” Minho sent Thomas a wink and he rolled his eyes. While Thomas had been stuck with Gally last year, Minho had somehow miraculously managed to get paired up with Aris Jones. The smartest damned boy in the entire grade.

“Don’t remind me of last year,” Thomas groaned, grimacing at the memories of Gally ‘accidentally’ knocking various chemicals and stuff all over his books and, most commonly, all over his shirt. The captain of the soccer team had always held a particular hatred for Thomas, probably because he was somewhat considered a better soccer player, but it might have been because of what had happened last year during one of their soccer games.

 

_That day, right after school, the boys' soccer team was playing a home game against Westview, a team they'd never beaten before in the school's history. The usual starting line up was a bit changed up because Ben (one of the team's starting midfielders) had been out sick. Gally ended up placing Thomas in Ben's spot as outside left midfielder. Even then he didn’t particularly like Thomas, but then again, Gally didn’t really like anyone._

_The game began rather well, and the Gladers had been doing a great job of defending. Clint, as goalie, had stopped almost every ball from entering the net. By half time, the score was: Glade Gladiators (they really didn't live up to their name) 0 - Westview Warriors 2._

_A few minutes into the second half, Gally (as a forward) dribbled around a few of the Warriors and passed the ball back to Thomas, who used a few tricks to get by two other players. He passed the ball back to Gally, who immediately took a shot. The Westview goalie dove for the ball, and it just skimmed his fingertips as it flew into the net. The Gladers (they hated calling themselves the "Gladiators") celebrated briefly before the game was back into play._

_After ten more minutes, Winston (the center midfielder) successfully landed another shot in the goal, and the teams were tied up. It was an incredibly intense match at this point, and the other team was beginning to play dirty. And it didn't help that the referees were beginning to favor the Warriors, calling fouls against the Gladers even when they did nothing wrong. With five minutes left on the clock, Thomas had the ball in his possession and was back in the Gladers' goalie box, dropped back to help out the defenders. A forward on the other team ran straight at him with no sign of stopping; Thomas passed the ball up to Gally. The problem was, the other midfielder had already dropped down into a slide-tackle to steal the ball, and he swept Thomas's feet out from under him. Thomas fell backwards onto the other kid painfully (later he would find out that he twisted his ankle)._

_But the refs were playing in Westview's favor, and, yes, they called the foul; but they called it_ against  _the Gladers, saying that it was_ Thomas  _who fouled. Due to the fact that Thomas had been in the goalie box, it gave the other team a Penalty Kick. They took the shot, and it went it. Needless to say, the Gladers lost the game 3-2, and, according to Gally, Thomas was to blame._  


_After that, Gally openly loathed him and would give the whole team a punishment every time Thomas made even the smallest mistake, be it during a practice or during a game. Soon, the majority of Thomas's other teammates hated him as well._

 

“Earth to Thomas!” Thomas snapped out of his stupor to find Minho staring at him in a mixture of annoyance and slight concern. “Dude, control your daydreaming. Sooner or later the teachers are gonna notice,” he smirked, gesturing over to the door where Mr. Janson - though Minho and Thomas called him Rat Man - had walked into the classroom as if he owned the place.

“Alright, students, I’m going to give you your assigned seats now,” he spoke as if he was explaining to a four year old how to tie their shoe. Thomas rolled his eyes, something he could easily get away with when Rat Man was staring down at an opened file on his desk.

“Aris Jones, you will be paired up with Zart. Teresa Agnes, you’ll be paired up with Minho.” Minho sent Thomas a sly grin and slid into the chair next to Teresa, as the girl had already sat down. Teresa was actually Thomas's sister, though they didn't talk a whole lot, and she tended to get rides to school with her friends.

“Albert, you will be sitting with Ben. Harriet, you’ll be sitting with Winston. Gally, you’ll be sitting with Chuck.” Thomas winced in sympathy for Chuck. The poor freshman’s year was gonna be hell. Thomas swore to himself to try and make it better for the kid.

“Thomas, you’ll be sitting with Isaac.” Thomas frowned in confusion. Who the hell was Isaac? Soon enough he saw a boy sit down at one of the desks, thankfully the one next to Minho and Teresa’s, and Thomas walked over to him, sliding down into the chair next to him.

“Isaac, is it?” he asked curiously. Thomas was sure as hell the kid didn’t go to their school last year; he would have recognized him. The boy was a bit shorter than average height and his blond hair was an absolute mess (though he pulled it off beautifully). His dark brown eyes were pools of swirling chocolate, and Thomas couldn’t help but get lost in them. This boy was _hot_.

“Yeah. I prefer Newt, though. I bloody hate ‘Isaac’,” Isaac - no, Newt - grumbled, pushing a strand of dirty blond hair out of his eyes. A British accent. He had a British accent.

“Alright. Newt, then. You’re British...” Thomas stated, but it sounded much more like he was asking a question. Newt nodded.

“Yeah. And your name’s Thomas, right?” Thomas nodded slightly. Newt smiled. “Nice to meet you, Tommy.”

Thomas hummed quietly as the class finally started, tearing his gaze away from Newt, but speaking again all the same.

"Well, Newt, welcome to the Glade."


	3. The Ship Has Set Sail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long with this chapter, I was in Florida for the week. I don't know the next time I'll be posting, so just bear with me.

Thomas sighed in relief when the students began pouring out of Mrs. Paige’s class to go to lunch. The woman was like a hawk, constantly watching and correcting what her students did wrong in front of the whole class to make the embarrass themselves. Today one of those students had been Thomas.

“Dude, I can’t believe you let yourself get noticed by the shuck teacher!” Minho chortled. Thomas scowled at him and slapped him in the back of the head with his history book. Minho frowned and pouted.

“Rude,” he whined. Scoffing, Thomas continued walking, Minho falling into step next to him.

“Seriously though, you’ve been in dreamland almost all day now. What’s goin’ on with you?” Minho asked, Thomas ignoring him as both boys speedily grabbed their trays of food and went to walk over to their normal eating spot. Until Thomas pointed out Newt, that is, who was already at their table, staring down at his food with a blank look.

“Looks like someone beat us to it. Come on, let’s go kick the kid out. That’s our table,” Minho said. Thomas sent him a small frown.

“Come on, Min. Look at the guy. He wasn’t here last year which means he’s a new student. Just lay off a bit and let him sit with us, yeah?” A small grin began forming on Minho’s face, a knowing grin Thomas knew too well.

“Oh, you like the new kid. Cute! Don’t you sit with him in chemistry? Awe, how adorable!” Minho cooed. Thomas glared daggers at him and stalked over to their table with a frown. Minho was one of the very few people who knew about him being gay. It wasn’t a big deal, really. And only Minho could read him like that, no one else, luckily. He wasn’t wrong, and Thomas knew that daydreaming about the same damn kid all day since their first class could mean one thing.

Thomas gently set his lunch tray down on the table, pulling out a chair and plopping down next to Newt, Minho on Thomas’s other side. Newt finally looked up from the salad he was prodding with his fork.

“Oh sorry. Is this your table? I can move-”

“No, it’s fine. Really,” Thomas sent him a warm smile and Minho kicked him lightly underneath the table. Thomas kicked back twice as hard and mentally high fived himself when he heard a quiet hiss of pain.

“Oh, alright. Uh, thanks,” Newt smiled. Thomas nodded and looked over at Minho, who was smirking despite having been kicked.

“You guys want me to move? I feel like a third wheel,” Minho said, still smirking. Thomas glared at him and Newt’s face flushed a bright red color. Thomas had never seen something so adorable in his entire life.

“Shut your shuck mouth, Minho,” Thomas growled under his breath, but he knew his friend (and Newt, as well) had heard it.

“Don’t worry, Tomboy. I was just teasin’,” Minho grinned, slinging an arm around Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas gave him a look of death and Minho brought his arm away from Thomas.

“Dude, no reason to give me the death glare,” Minho snickered, taking a bite of his freezer warmed pizza. Thomas rolled his eyes and looked back up, noticing Newt furrowing his brow cutely as he looked at the both of them.

“So, are, uh...are you two together?” he asked, dark chocolate eyes filled with complete innocent that Thomas hadn't seen in anyone older than maybe a ten year old. Thomas’s eyes widened and Minho nearly choked on his food.

“No. God, no. No way in hell,” Thomas groaned, hiding his face in his hands in the hopes of hiding the rising blush. Minho coughed a few times, his eyes watering.

“Us? Good God, no,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust, placing a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas lifted his head and slapped Minho’s hand away.

“Stop touching me,” Thomas whined in annoyance. Minho eyed him teasingly and stuck his tongue out at him childishly. Thomas snorted and rolled his eyes, nibbling at his piece of pizza before placing it back on his tray and pushing it away with a look of revulsion.

“That is the single most disgusting thing I’ve ever eaten,” he stated, staring at the pizza as if it was poisoned.

“Hey dude, if you’re not gonna eat it, I will,” Minho grinned, swiping the piece of pizza and placing it onto his own tray. Thomas once again rolled his eyes, scanning his tray (which now only had a small stack of carrots, a carton of chocolate milk, and a chocolate chip cookie) and lifting one of the little carrots and taking a bite.

“Why do you think I got a salad? From past experience, you would think not to get the pizza if you don’t bloody like it,” Newt snickered quietly, Thomas sending him a playfully annoyed look.

“It’s the first day of school. You can’t honestly expect me to use intelligence,” Thomas snorted, grinning, his eyes shimmering with happiness and what Minho was sure was awe. Minho sniggered knowingly, intentionally being loud enough for the pair of boys to hear him. Both Newt and Thomas’s cheeks turned a slightly darker shade of pink.

Minho hadn't had anyone to tease Thomas about for years, and he planned to take advantage of it. After all, what are friends for? The Newt and Thomas ship had officially set sail.


	4. Mr. Stereotype

“So, what’s this school like?” Newt questioned after a small pause of awkward silence. Thomas spared a glance at Minho before looking back at Newt.

“Well, I’m not going to lie, Newt. This school- well, it sucks about as much as any other high school, if not more (I mean, look, we have plastic silverware and styrofoam trays),” Thomas admitted truthfully with a small shrug. “But, you know, it’s alright once you get used to it.” Newt gave a small nod, turning to his own food as Thomas lifted his absurdly small chocolate chip cookie from his lunch tray and took a small bite of it, savoring the flavor, considering it was one of the only edible things they were having for lunch today.

“So, Tommy,” Newt began once he finished his salad, “what class do you have next? And you don’t mind me calling you that, right?”

Thomas hadn’t heard the nickname “Tommy” since he was in kindergarten. His father always preferred to call him ‘Thomas’ because it sounded more manly, and his mom and sister called him ‘Tom’ simply because it was shorter. Minho hummed quietly and stealthily slipped Thomas’s half-eaten cookie off his tray, smiling smugly in success as he ate it whole. Thomas sent Minho a small scowl, but said nothing to the action, seeing as he was still required to answer Newt’s questions.

“My next class is English. It’s probably my favorite class, too,” Thomas shrugged. Minho grinned and quickly spoke up, interrupting whatever Thomas had been about to say.

“My favorite class is math,” Minho stated with a touch of pride. Thomas snickered to himself.

“Yeah, just like every stereotypical Asian, right Minho?” he mocked teasingly. Call it revenge for his friend stealing his cookie. Minho frowned and rolled his eyes dramatically.

“And no, Newt, of course I don’t mind you calling me that,” Thomas assured. Minho’s frown morphed to a devious smirk, which Newt quickly noticed, raising an eyebrow in response to it.

“And what are you smirking about, Mr. Stereotype?” Newt asked, his sass strong enough to compete with Minho’s.

“What? Me? I’m not doing anything,” Minho replied, though the smug look remained on his face. Newt rolled his eyes in obvious disbelief, shrugging and turning back to Thomas.

“I like English too. And as it so happens, I have it next as well. Wanna go together? Otherwise you might want to show me the way, or I’ll probably end up getting lost in the Elementary or something,” Newt grinned. Thomas agreed to going with Newt to their English class, and Minho piped up soon after.

“Well, you know what else is an Asian stereotype? That we’re all nerds and weaklings. Newtie, I’d _love_ to see you beat me in a fight,” Minho teased, flexing his biceps at the obviously weaker teen. Thomas held back a laugh at the action.

“I mean, I don’t know, Min. My money’s on Newt.” Minho sent Thomas a small glare when Newt laughed at the comment. Newt obviously wasn’t more muscular than Minho, that would be an accomplishment on its own, but he seemed like the type of person who would use force should the need arise.

“Well, don’t go crying to your mum when I beat you,” Newt said, lightly punching Minho on the arm. He then proceeded to pull his hand back as if he’d just burnt it. “Ow, my hand!” Newt cried, clutching his hand to his chest as though he was in pain. The Brit dropped the act a few moments later, grinning when Thomas rolled his eyes in a good-natured way. “Seriously though, Minho, it’s like you spend all of your spare time in a gym or something.”

Minho grinned at the comment and waggled his eyebrows, winking at the blond. “You know it babe,” he smirked seductively, waggling his eyebrows even more and flexing his biceps. Thomas couldn’t hold back a laugh this time (Minho looked absolutely ridiculous), plus he knew Minho wasn't genuinely flirting with the blond. Newt giggled quietly at Thomas’s laugh, placing a hand over his mouth to stifle to sound. Minho broke the facade and let out a chuckle of his own.

Minho reached over to the Brit’s lunch tray to take a carrot from him, but Newt lightly swatted Minho’s hand away. Thomas smiled and rolled his eyes (he noticed he did that a lot lately), but before he could say anything, the bell sounded (truth be told, it wasn’t even a bell, rather a prolonged monotone beep), signifying the end of lunch. Minho grinned and pointed at Newt with his fork. "Alright, I approve. You, my friend, are officially accepted into our group."


	5. Shay

Newt chuckled and shook his head slightly, glancing over at Mr. Morison (the guidance counselor) on the other side of the cafeteria, who was beginning to shoo students out of the large room and to their classes before they were late.

"Well, since Thomas is terrible at matching schedules and I have Math next, I guess see you two slintheads later. Ciao!" With that, Minho sauntered over to the garbage cans and tossed his styrofoam tray along with the remains of his food away, exiting the cafeteria with a dramatic flourish.

"Actually, we should probably be heading to class, too, Tommy," Newt pointed out after watching Minho leave, checking that everything was in his bag before slinging it up onto his shoulders as he stood. Thomas rose to his feet and slung one strap over his shoulder, the bag dangling to the side a bit as he followed Newt to discard his styrofoam tray and plastic silverware. Thomas opened his mouth to say something to his newfound friend, but noticed that Newt was looking, with a confused expression, over at someone across the nearly empty cafeteria. Or rather, multiple someones.

Thomas recognized a few girls in the group of seniors, including Sonya, Harriet, Brenda (who looked to be the only Junior in the group) and, of course, his older sister, Teresa. The majority of the girls (thankfully  _not_ Teresa or Brenda) were giggling and stealing obvious glanced over at Newt. Thomas felt something twist inside him and he felt like his stomach was burning. He bit his lower lip to prevent himself from saying something bad. Jealousy? Thomas shook his head slightly to rid it of such thoughts.

 _No, no way. There's no_ way _I'm jealous over some stupid girls who're trying to flirt with Newt. Nope._

One of the girls (that Thomas did  _not_ recognize, thank god) sauntered over, giggling still and batting her fake eyelashes a bit too much. Thomas crinkled his nose, and barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at the dark-haired girl.

"Hey," she purred. "My name's Shay. You're, like, the new kid, right?" Newt raised an eyebrow at the girl's behavior and glanced over at Thomas with a thoroughly amused expression.

"Uh, yeah. I'm Newt. Nice to meet you, I suppose," Newt said after a few seconds of hesitation. Shay giggled once more and sighed "dreamily", flashing a smile so big it looked more like a pained grimace. Thomas felt sick to his stomach. Shay winked at Newt, twisting a strand of hair around her index finger and seemingly to all but thrust her chest out at the Brit.

"I like your accent. It's, like, really sexy," she allowed coquettishly. Thomas rolled his eyes and bit back an overly dramatic groan of annoyance, the scowl on his face darkening his features.

"Yeah, well, we better go Newt, or we'll be late for class," he interjected, attempting to wipe the scowl off his face when Newt adverted his gaze to look at him. Thomas faked a smile, but Newt looked anything but convinced. Regardless, Thomas grabbed the blond by the wrist and gently tugged him along after him as he walked towards the exit of the cafeteria. Behind them, the brunet could hear the shushed titters and conversation between Teresa and her friends as the group rejoined with Shay. Thomas dropped Newt's wrist from his grasp once they were out of eyesight. The silence between the two seemed deafening and was beginning to feel awkward; until, that is, Newt spoke up, sounding quite miffed and a bit puzzled.

"Why is it that American kids are so obsessed with British accents? Like, do you find it hot or something?" he inquired. Thomas bit back a laugh, glancing over at the messy-haired blond with a grin.

"Pretty much, yeah. Mostly the girls," he stated with a small shrug. His smile grew and he mockingly mirrored Shay, batting his eyelashes obnoxiously and mimicking her voice. "But I gotta say you, like, pull it off well." Newt snorted and rolled his eyes, playfully shoving Thomas away from him. Thomas simply grinned and drifted back over beside Newt.

"We'd better hurry to class," Thomas advised after a few seconds of comfortable silence, "Mrs. Owen is really nice, but I don't think she'd be very happy if you were late on your first day."

"I'll just use my "sexy British accent" on her and she'll forgive me. Won't work for you, though. Then again, you look cute enough as it is, she'll surely forgive you if you smile sweetly at her," Newt joked, slowing down slightly to allow Thomas to walk in front of him and lead the way, considering Newt had no clue where he was going, after all. Thomas grinned and his cheeks reddened at the compliment, though he quickly played it off.

"Yeah, well, she's kind of married and, you know, a lot older than us, so I don't know how well that would go down," Thomas pointed out, the redness beginning to fade from his face. Newt snorted.

"Why does age matter? If you love someone, the age or gender isn't what's important," Newt shot back defensively, sounding entirely serious. It grew silent for a few moments, and Newt awkwardly cleared his throat to continue. "But I find that just niceness tends to work a lot of the time, as well." Thomas spared a glance behind him at the blond, who's expression gave away nothing. Was he trying to hint at something? Or was Thomas just hearing what he wanted to hear?

Thomas ended up slowing down, and the two were now walking side by side. Newt asked a few more questions about the location of certain classes in the school (he was particularly curious about the whereabouts of the library). Soon enough, though, they were entering Mrs. Owen's classroom. The teacher was sitting at her desk and seemed to be grading, while the semi-quiet chatter of students provided a background noise. 

"...Who are you sitting with?" Newt questioned after a few seconds of brief hesitation. It was obvious what the blond was silently asking.

"Well, the project we're working on right now is in groups of three and it is, technically  _was_ , and uneven number. There are five groups of three and then there's me and Chuck, the only group of two. So, I'm sure Mrs. Owen won't mind you joining us. Besides, she's a sweetheart," Thomas explained with a smile, giving Chuck (the only freshman in the advanced English class) a small wave of acknowledgement when they made eye contact.

Gally, sitting with his group of friends, currently the leader of the "We Hate Thomas" fan club, scowled darkly at said brunet before turning back to his friends. Thomas frowned and rolled his eyes (Gally didn't scare him. Okay, maybe a  _tiny_ bit) before walking over to Mrs. Owen's desk to ask if Newt could join his and Chuck's group. Once he explained, Mrs. Owen stated she would be happy for Newt to join them. Thomas looked back at the Brit, giving a small nod before walking over and leading him to the table where Chuck sat by himself towards an empty corner of the classroom.


	6. Hamlet With Lions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I'm posting again, that's always good. I've been trying to make the chapters a bit longer, too.
> 
> Positive feedback is greatly appreciated and is what motivates me to continue!

"Hey," Newt introduced himself. "I'm Newt, the new student. Nice to meet you." Chuck grinned and shook the blond's hand in greeting.

"Hi. I'm Chuck, but I'm sure Thomas told you that already," Chuck teased. Thomas snorted and rolled his eyes, but the smile didn't leave his face. Honestly, he adored Chuck, and wanted to make his high school experience (or, at least, his freshman year) as amazing as possible.

"Okay, so, we're supposed to be making a presentation on one of Shakespeare's famous plays. Chuck and I have already chosen  _Hamlet_ , if that's okay; plus, it's easier to complete the "Making Connections" part of the project. We also get extra credit for History, which is always nice," Thomas explained. Newt nodded, humming to himself in thought.

"Yeah, s'fine with me. But what were you sayin' about the "Making Connections" part of the project? What is that, exactly?" Newt questioned, his eyes seeming to shimmer with innocence (though Thomas didn't think the Brit was as innocent as he seemed to be letting on).

"Well, we have to see how the play we've chosen connects to modern day society, like, in movies or whatever. It's pretty easy; all we have to do is explain how the plot of the Disney movie _The Lion King_  is based off of  _Hamlet_ ," Thomas shrugged. "Easy peasy." Newt groaned and sat down in the chair of Chuck's left, resting his head on his arms as a makeshift pillow. Thomas frowned and raised an eyebrow at the Brit's reaction, pulling out the chair beside Newt and sitting down next to him, leaving Chuck on the end.

"What's the matter?" he asked. Newt huffed and raised his head, a sheepish smile on his face.

"It's just, I've never seen _The Lion King_  before," Newt confessed with a small shrug, seeming not to notice Thomas's eyes widen and his jaw drop in shock.

" _What?_ " Thomas gasped, the look on his face a mix of surprise and hurt, as though he was personally offended. Newt shrugged once again.

"I never bloody had the opportunity. Plus, a movie about a bunch of lions doesn't seem-"

"I swear to Mufasa, if you insult my favorite Disney movie of all time, I cannot be your friend," Thomas interrupted. Newt was unsure if he was joking, for the expression on Thomas's face was completely serious. The blond raised his hands in defense, rolling his eyes and glancing at Chuck. The younger boy just looked bored and a small bit amused.

"Alright, as funny as that would be, it would probably be easier to, you know, have him  _watch_ the movie," Chuck suggested. "Besides, it would be nice to refresh on the movie personally, I haven't watched it in forever," he added. Thomas tore his gaze from Newt and focused on Chuck. He frowned and stared at Chuck for a few moments. Just as the intensity and seriousness of his gaze was beginning to make the curly-haired boy uncomfortable, Thomas relented, the stern expression dropping from his features.

"Sounds like a plan," he nodding, seeming satisfied with the result. Newt raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, great idea, except I don't own the bloody movie," he stated. The look on Thomas's face morphed into a mischievous grin, his eyes glittering.

"I have the movie. We can get together and watch it at my house. Besides, the project isn't due for another week and a half; we have time."

* * *

 "Yo Tomboy! Stop flirting with your boyfriend and hurry up, ya shank!" Minho shouted out the window of his truck. Thomas glanced over his shoulder at his friend and flipped him off before turning back to Newt. The two stood outside the school, a few students walking by as they left the building. Newt and Thomas had just gotten out of their last class (which was Math for them; Minho had English last).

It was now Thursday and Thomas and Minho had gotten closer to Newt over the three days they'd known him. Thomas shifted from foot to foot and chewed on his lower lip. For the past few days, Newt just went directly home after school, but Thomas had said he wanted to talk to him, and here they were. Now that it was (technically) him and Newt alone, it was much harder to hide his nervousness behind sarcastic and witty comments.

"You... uh, wanna come over to my place to watch the movie today? I could call Chuck and ask him, too," Thomas said, even though he knew Chuck was adamant on going shopping with his mom for Thomas's birthday, which was in two weeks. Newt hummed thoughtfully and nodded after a few moments.

"Yeah, sure. Give me a minute, though, I'll have to call my mum and let her know where I'll be," the blond explained, pulling his cell phone out of the back pocket of his black skinny jeans. At the same time, Thomas felt his own phone vibrate in his pocket. Thomas took a few side-steps away from Newt to give him some privacy in his phone call, turning the brightness up to full in order to better see the text he'd received, using his hand to shield the screen against the glare of the sun. Thomas could just make out Minho's name blinking on the screen as he opened the message.

**Minho: Bringing him back to your place then?**

Before Thomas could text back a response, his phone was buzzing with another text message.

 **Minho: I don't mind giving him a ride, as long as you two don't sex up my** **truck**.

Thomas's eyes widened and he felt his cheeks begin heating up as he looked up and over to the left, easily noticing Minho's smirk. And it was evident that Minho saw the redness of his face because his grin widened and he started laughing. Of course, this only caused for more embarrassment for the brunet.

'Fuck you,' Thomas mouthed to his friend, not-so-subtly flipping him off. Minho winked and then glanced at something off to Thomas right, which had Thomas looking over to his right. Newt was tucking his phone back into his pocket and adjusting his jacket. He clapped his hands together a few seconds later and peered over to see Thomas staring at him. He chuckled and smiled, though it appeared more to be a smirk than a smile.

"My mum says that's fine and she's glad I've found friends already. So, I'm assuming Mr. Stereotype is giving us a ride, then?" Newt nodded over at Minho, who was driving over to the sidewalk, evidently tired of sitting and waiting in the parking lot. He pulled the slow-moving vehicle to a stop and leaned out the already-open window.

"Get in, losers!" he called. Thomas gestured for Newt to ride shotgun and he gratefully accepted, climbing into the passengers' seat of the truck. Thomas clambered into the back, glancing out the back window as he did so. Aside from a few loitering students, the school grounds were completely vacant. Which made sense, considering school got out at least ten minutes ago. Thomas glanced down at his wrist before remembering that he'd forgotten his watch at home today.

" _Mean Girls_? Really Minho?" Newt rolled his eyes. Thomas chuckled and buckled up as Minho tore out of the parking lot and onto the thankfully not-very-busy street.

 

The ride was quite short, five minutes at most, and Thomas was, once again, extremely thankful that Minho only lived four houses over. He and Newt climbed out of the red vehicle with their backpacks, waving goodbye to their friend.

"Bye, Min. See you tomorrow morning," Thomas nodded. Minho hummed in agreement.

"See you tomorrow, Minho," Newt stated. The Asian raised his hand to his forehead and gave the pair a mock salute and his infamous smirk before pulling back out of Thomas's short driveway and, a few seconds later, pulling into his own only a few houses away. Newt raised an eyebrow and shifted his gaze over to Thomas.

"Yeah, he doesn't live too far away. Speaking of, how far from the school do _you_ live?" Thomas questioned, fishing his keychain out of his bag. He walked up to the door of his house and unlocked it, swinging the door open and gesturing for Newt to come inside.

"Thanks, Tommy. Um, I don't live too far from the school. Only a few blocks. Actually, I think I only live a street or so away from here. This is Seventh Street, right?" Newt asked, shutting the door behind him. Thomas nodded, and the blond hummed to himself. "Yeah, I live over on Fifth with my mum."

"Cool."  _Cool? Really, Thomas? Cool?_ That's _the best you can come up with?_ Thomas mentally bashed himself as Newt toed off his shoes by the door. Thomas snapped back into focus and quickly slipped his own shoes off, leaning down to move them out of the doorway and beside the 'Welcome' mat. Bending over, Newt did the same (and Thomas most _certainly_  was  _not_ looking at his ass). The Brit straightened up and locked eyes with the brunet, who could feel his face heating up. He just prayed that his house was dimly enough lit that it wasn't noticeable (but who was he kidding?).

"Okay, Tommy, ready to watch that movie?"


	7. Finishing The Movie (Or Not)

"Okay, Tommy, ready to watch that movie?" Newt questioned, walking into the living room of Thomas's house and flopping onto the dark brown sofa. With his face pressed into the couch, he didn't see Thomas nod.

"Yeah, hang on a sec, I gotta go get the VHS tape from my room," he explained. Newt grunted and the sound of Thomas's footsteps scaling up the staircase was the only other noise, other than Newt's own breathing. He stood up and took in the surroundings of the house, giving himself a quick tour. It was very nice and cozy, with beige wallpaper all around and soft baby blue carpet lining the living room floor and flowing into another few rooms branching off and up the stairs. The carpet stopped at the kitchen, which changed to a simple white tile for the flooring.

The kitchen was decent sized, with quite a bit of room to move around and many empty countertops. The wooden dining table was in the kitchen. It was oval shaped and had two chairs on either long side with one chair on each end. The table was bare and clean aside from a stack of papers and an unlit candle sat in the center. Newt hummed to himself, stepping out of the kitchen and shuffling back into the living room.

The room was fairly small, but not cramped or confining, more of a cozy and comfortable. On either side of the three-cushioned sofa were two beige reclining chairs (that matched the wallpaper) to fill the empty space in the room, both angled in towards the TV on the opposite wall. Positioned a few feet away from the sofa was a coffee table with nothing on it except a book and a few coasters. The television was quite big, mounted on the wall with a window on either side. Both windows were covered with navy blue curtains, keeping the light from flooding in and reflecting off the TV. A wooden TV stand squatted beneath the television, with two drawers that Newt assumed held movies and video games. On top of the stand sat a DVD and VHS player and an Xbox, along with a few remotes.

"Hey, I'm back." Thomas's voice startled Newt out of concentrated stupor, causing him to jump and whirl around, his eyes wide and his heart beating out of his chest. When Newt noticed Thomas standing at the bottom of the stairs, he relaxed from his tense stance and placed a hand over his chest, shooting Thomas a mock annoyed look.

"Jesus, Tommy, you almost gave me a bloody heart attack!" he huffed, sighing as he settled back down on the couch, leaning his back against the arm rest and stretching his legs out to rest on the cushions. Thomas smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, Newt. What were you doing, anyway?" he asked curiously, walking around the sofa and dropping down onto his knees in front of the TV. That's when Newt noticed that Thomas had changed into more comfy clothes. He'd taken off his shoes and wore a pair of fluffy-looking socks along with a loose fitting t-shirt and a pair of soft grey sweatpants. Newt scanned the brunet's body shamelessly.

"I was just lookin' around," he explained, his gaze settling on the curve of Thomas's ass. He hummed quietly in appreciation. In his peripheral vision, he noticed the TV turn from a black screen to end credits before Thomas paused it and proceeded to rewind the movie back to the beginning. Newt snapped his eyes up when Thomas turned around.

"Yeah, our house is just a normal, everyday house. Nothing really different or unusual. I hate it," Thomas wrinkled his nose in distaste as he turned around to face Newt. Was it just him, or were the blond's cheeks tinted a slight shade of pink? Thomas waved it off and climbed to his feet.

"No, s'alright," Newt assured. "I bloody like it. It's really homey." Thomas grinned and picked one of the remotes off of the TV stand, raising an eyebrow at Newt before gesturing to his feet.

"You gonna move your feet?" he inquired with a raised eyebrow. Newt grinned, but pulled his feet back anyway, turning so that he was leaning against the back of the couch rather than the arm of it. He propped his feet up on the coffee table.

"Want me to go make some popcorn or something?" Thomas asked, not quite sitting down yet. Newt shook his head and patted the cushion next to him.

"Nah, I'm alright. Besides, if I get thirsty or something, we can just pause the movie," the blond explained with a shrug. "Now sit, I think it's done rewinding." Thomas did as he was told, settling down on the couch next to Newt (perhaps a _bit_ closer than necessary), their thighs  _almost_ touching. Thomas glanced over at Newt before adverting his gaze back to the TV, clicking 'Play' on the remote in his hand. A few seconds later, his clicked 'Pause'.

"Shit, almost forgot," Thomas stated, springing to his feet and racing over to the light switch near the door, clicking the living room light off. It still wasn't dark (what with the glow of the TV and little bit of sunlight seeping through the dark curtains), just a bit dimmer. Newt snorted and shook his head when Thomas flopped back down next to him.

"Jeez, Tommy, take me out on a bloody date first," he teased, grinning at Thomas's embarrassed reaction to his words. The burnet's face was visibly red, even in the dimmer lighting of the room.

"Immersion, Newt," he explained, clearing his throat awkwardly. He once again clicked 'Play' on the remote and they finally began watching Thomas's favorite Disney movie.

* * *

Thomas shifted a bit to pull his phone out of his pocket, his left knee knocking against Newt's right. The blond adverted his gaze from the movie (Simba had just entered the Elephant Graveyard with Nala) over to Thomas, who was tapping his fingers on his phone screen. Newt reached over to the coffee table, grabbed the remote, and paused the movie. Thomas glanced up at him, then back at his phone, hitting 'Send'.

"My dad just texted me saying he'll be home late, probably around eleven or so. My mom doesn't usually get home until eight, and Teresa might not even be home at all, so we should have time to finish the movie. When... uh, when are you planning on leaving?" Thomas asked hesitantly. Newt was smart enough to assume that Teresa was Thomas's sister, and he didn't bother asking about it as leaned over to look at Thomas's phone to check the time. It was 4:47.

"My mum doesn't really care when I go home," Newt shrugged. "She's really bloody relaxed about these things. She'd probably be fine if I spend the night, to be honest." Newt shrugged once more. "I don't know... I'll ask her and see what she says."

The blond pulled out his phone and tapped a few buttons on the screen, holding the phone up to his ear and questioningly pointing to the kitchen. Thomas nodded and Newt walked out of the living room. He could vaguely hear Newt's voice drifting into the living room. The brunet sighed and placed his cell phone on the coffee table, leaning back into the couch and closing his eyes. Just as he felt himself beginning to drift off, Newt walked back into the room, raising an eyebrow at Thomas.

"You look like you're about to bloody fall asleep," Newt commented. Thomas grunted and opened his eyes, frowning up at Newt.

"Hey,  _you're_ the one who needs to watch the shuck movie, not me," the brunet pointed out, grumbling as he sat up and grabbed the remote off the cushion beside him. "What did your mom say?" Newt laid his cell phone on the table and sat down beside Thomas, even closer than they'd been sitting before, their knees brushing and their thighs pressed up against each other.

"Well, she said it was my choice how long I stay and she's just happy I've found a friend," Newt explained. Suddenly he looked hesitant. "You don't mind if I stay for dinner, or maybe a bit later than that, do you?"

Thomas was almost immediately shaking his head. Due to Minho staying over so often, his parents were very lenient when it came to Thomas having friends over on school days. "Course I don't mind. My parents won't, either, Minho stays over all the time. We'll have to make our own dinner, though."

Newt nodded and grinned slightly. "That's fine. We can do that later though. First, let's finish the bloody movie."

* * *

Thomas moaned under Newt's electric touch, bucking his hips forward instinctively as Newt gripped him in his hand. Newt smirked and pressed his fingertips against his hipbones, gently pushing him back against the wall and releasing his hold on Thomas's member.

"Slim yourself, Tommy," Newt ordered lightly, his British accent velvety and smooth as chocolate, like a burst of thunder ringing in Thomas's ears. The blond sank to his knees in front of the American, teasing him slightly by placing a few kisses on his inner thigh before taking him into his mouth. Thomas gasped as the blond's name slipped off his tongue, moaning quietly and barely restraining himself from thrusting forward into Newt's mouth.

The blond slid his tongue over the tip of Thomas's member, collecting the pooling pre-cum before pulling off of him. Newt smirked and took Thomas into his mouth once more, gazing up at the brunet with a dark intensity in his eyes that made Thomas (literally) feel weak at the knees....

 

"Oi, Tommy, you alright?" Newt's concerned voice echoed through Thomas's consciousness and jolted him awake. He woke so suddenly that he nearly fell of the couch, not realizing he was actually laying down. It was only Newt grabbing him by the upper arm that kept him from nosediving. Newt crouched down beside the sofa and stared at Thomas anxiously, still gripping his arm. The dark, swirling brown of Newt's irises reminded Thomas of his dream and his face bloomed light pink.

"You alright, mate?" Newt questioned, worry thick in his voice. "You fell asleep towards the end of the movie and I just got up to go to the bathroom. When I came back, you kept whimperin' and moanin'. Figured you were having a nightmare," he shrugged. Thomas's face flushed even darker, and though it was impossible for Newt _not_ to notice it, he didn't say anything. He glanced to his right and suppressed a smirk before standing up and releasing the hold he had on his arm.

"I'm gonna go see what I can make for us to eat. You might want to take care of your, ah... Your  _problem_ first," Newt grinned, glancing sideways once more. Thomas followed his gaze and felt his face explode in fiery embarrassment when he saw the obvious bulge in his pants.

" _Fuck_ ," Thomas cursed and scrambled to his feet, racing to the bathroom. Newt's laughter seeming to follow after Thomas as he locked himself in the tiled room. He could hear Newt's muffled voice calling to him through the wooden door.

"Pretty sure thinkin' about that's what caused the problem, Tommy!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated! I usually take suggestions, so if you have any idea of where you want this story to go, go ahead and leave me a comment~
> 
> ^-^


	8. Mario Kart Rage

A few minutes after Thomas locked himself in the bathroom, Newt flipped on the light switch and searched through the brunet's kitchen in an attempt to find something edible. He found 'Just-Add-Water' pancake mix, a few half-eaten bags of chips, a fridge full of random contents (none of which sounded very good at that moment), and a few bags of food in the freezer. 

 _Pizza rolls it is_ , Newt thought, pulling out one mostly empty bag and one unopen one, setting them on the counter. He glanced at the oven and decided not to mess with the random knobs and buttons, instead waiting for Thomas to return so that he could work the weird oven. Newt hummed  _Uma Thurman_ to himself as he leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest.

About ten minutes later, Thomas entered the kitchen. Newt smirked and rolled his eyes.

"Bloody took you long enough," the blond teased. Thomas scowled and his cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. Newt laughed, gesturing to the bags of pizza rolls on the pristine countertop. "I don't know how to work your stupid buggin' oven, so you're gonna have to do it." Thomas walked over and reached for one of the bags of pizza rolls, but Newt's hand gripping his shoulder stopped him.

"Wash your hands first, Tommy, jeez," he said, "I don't want  _that_ all over my food." Thomas's cheeks darkened and Newt giggled to himself. Teasing Thomas was hilariously fun. He patted his shoulder and grinned.

"Just jokin'. But you should still probably wash your hands, even if you already have," Newt added. Thomas rolled his eyes and shook his head mutely, but trudged over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands anyway. Newt walked back out of the kitchen and into the living room, grabbing his cell phone off of the coffee table and checking if he had any missed messages. He did not, but be wasn't really surprised.

"Hey, Tommy," he called into the kitchen, stepping back into the tile-floored room and placing his phone on the dining table. "You're gonna have to give me your number before I leave."

Thomas turned around and shut off the flowing water, wiping his hands on a hand towel laying on the counter beside the sink, raising an eyebrow at Newt. "Alright. When do you plan on leaving, though?" Newt shrugged at Thomas's question.

"I don't know. Probably before you parents come home, though, because that's a bit late," Newt answered. Thomas nodded and hoped that the twinge of disappointment he felt didn't show on his face. Newt must've noticed, however, because he raised an eyebrow and shrugged once more.

"I mean, I could spend the night, if you want. But I'd have to get up earlier to go home and get ready for school tomorrow," Newt explained. His eyes then gained a joking mischievousness and he winked. "Unless you want me to wear your clothes."

Thomas rolled his eyes and felt his cheeks heat up slightly. He really wished he knew if Newt's flirting was just one of his ways of messing with him. The brunet decided two could play at that game. He smirked and cocked his eyebrow suggestively. "I mean, go ahead, if that's what you want."

Newt snorted and rolled his eyes. Okay, it was evident that the 'flirting' (if that's what it even was) definitely didn't affect Newt as much as it did Thomas. "Oh, hush Tommy, and make us some pizza rolls."

 

The food was finished in just about ten minutes (eight, to be exact) and the two had to wait for their food to cool off before placing an even amount of rolls on each plate and grabbing two cans of Pepsi (Thomas didn't have Coke, which was Newt's personal favorite). Thomas lifted his designated food and drink and balanced it in one hand while grabbed a half-eaten bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos in the other, nodding his head towards the stairs.

"Come on, we can eat in my room and talk about the project a bit," he suggested. Newt shrugged and nodded, following Thomas up the carpeted staircase and being extra cautious not to spill or drop anything. He and his mum rarely ate anywhere other than the dinner table. Thomas's bedroom door was already open slightly and Thomas used his knee to push it open the rest of the way. Newt scanned his eyes through the room and grinned.

"Didn't take you for a  _Doctor Who,_ _Sherlock,_ and  _Supernatural_ type of guy," Newt stated, nodding towards the posters hanging on the bedroom wall behind Thomas's bed. The brunet shrugged and placed his food on the floor, walking over and opening the window on the far wall, carefully leaning over the wooden desk placed in front of the window. Newt tried not to stare, he really did, but it seemed as though his gaze was magnetically attracted to Thomas's body, even though he was wearing loose-fitting clothes that could probably be mistaken for pajamas.

"Yeah, they're really good TV shows," Thomas explained. "But I haven't been watching them lately. Our soccer season ends in early October, but we have practice after school Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays until five forty-five starting next week, plus I generally have homework to get done, so I don't get to watch them that often. I mean, I'm all caught up on _Supernatural_ and _Sherlock_ (and let's be honest, there won't be a new series for another two years), but I literally _just_ started the eleventh doctor."

Newt grinned and nodded, sitting down on the edge of Thomas's bed and cracking open his can of Pepsi, taking a small sip. "I'm caught up on _Doctor Who_ and _Sherlock_ ," Newt said. "But I've never seen  _Supernatural_ before. Not really a British TV show." Thomas hummed and nodded, stepping back over and lifting his own food, settling down on his mattress next to the blond, shoving a pizza roll in his mouth. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until then. Thomas opened and took a swig of Pepsi before shoving another pizza roll in his mouth.

The pair ate in a comfortable silence, Newt looking around Thomas's room, and Thomas stealing glances at Newt. The American finished his food far before Newt did, taking his plate downstairs to wash it off and place it in the dishwasher, temporarily leaving Newt alone in his room. The blond looked around, finishing his final pizza roll and setting the plate down on the bed. He hopped off Thomas's bed and faced the wall opposite of the door to look at the posters on Thomas's wall. He stretched his arms over his head and groaned as he did so, his shirt rising up slightly to reveal a strip of midriff. He sighed and turned around to bring his own plate downstairs, only to see Thomas leaning against the doorway with his arms folded across his chest, staring at him. Newt frowned and found himself unable to read the look in the brunet's eyes. Newt shifted uncomfortably and Thomas's expression changed back to his usual goofy smile.

"You done? Awesome," he allowed, walking over and picking up Newt's empty plate and flipping it over in his hands. "I'll be right back." And just like that, Thomas was gone again. Newt bit his lower lip and frowned, mulling over the thoughts in his head. Before he could reach any conclusions, Thomas had returned. This time with his phone in hand. He tossed the device at Newt, who, luckily, managed to catch it, cursing slightly.

"Go ahead and put your number in," Thomas explained. He scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat. "Well, what do you want to do? I have a Wii U and an Xbox; we could play Super Smash Bros or something."

Newt entered his contact info into the brunet's phone, setting it on Thomas's bed when he'd finished, not trusting himself to throw the phone back at him. The blond's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Wait, do you have Mario Kart 8?"

Thomas nodded and walked over to pick up his phone, sliding it into a pocket of his sweatpants. "Yeah, but I'm really good. Minho can't even beat me."

Newt grinned and clapped his hands together. "Oh, you're _on_ , Tommy."

* * *

"NO! WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK!?" Thomas screamed, mashing the buttons on his Wii U remote frantically, standing up as though that would somehow get him to first place. Meanwhile Newt was laughing his ass off as he leisurely cruised through the course, overlapping the two characters in last place (baby Peach and Toad). There was only half a lap left and Thomas was getting the shit beat out of him by red shells and banana peels, falling back into fifth.

"This is such  _fucking_ bullshit!" Thomas growled, managing to swerve his character (Shy Guy) around a flying green shell. Newt giggled as he passed Luigi and flew across the finish line, far in first place. Newt placed his Wii controller on the sofa beside him, exaggeratedly stretching out his arms in front of him and fake yawning loudly. Thomas sent him an intense glare. Newt grinned and adverted his gaze to the TV.

"Come on, Tommy, I thought you were good."

"I _AM_ , Newt!" Thomas snapped, groaning in frustration as he got hit by another red shell right before the finish line. He finished the course in sixth place. Newt raised an eyebrow and gestured to the screen.

"Yeah, I see that," he stated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Thomas scowled and flipped off the screen, flopping down onto the couch with a huff. Newt grinned and shook his head, patting Thomas on the shoulder comfortingly.

"Don't worry, Tommy. Want to stop now so you can still have some of your dignity left?" Newt asked innocently, though the triumphant, smug smile on his face was nothing innocent, only evil (in Thomas's eyes anyway). The brunet let to his feet and shook his head, clicking the 'Continue' button and choosing the next track. He'd chosen the Animal Crossing one.

"No, I'm gonna kick your ass," Thomas said firmly, his eyes blazing with determination. Newt shrugged and his smile widened.

"Let's just wait and see."

* * *

Minho checked one final time that he had his keys and phone before exiting his house. It was still quite warm out and Minho had spent the past few hours at the grocery shop with his mom. Minho thought about this for a few moments and contemplated what to get Thomas for his birthday. He shrugged the thought off and decided to think about it later.

He exited his house and closed the door behind him. Surely Newt would have gone home at this point, seeing as it was already 7:13 and Thomas's mom would be home at eight. Minho sighed and walked the few houses over and to Thomas's.

"Fuck! _Oh_ fuck!" Thomas's muffled voice could be heard through the door.

"Oh god, Tommy!" That would be Newt. Minho's eyes widened and he hesitated just slightly before opening Thomas's front door and entering the building, closing his eyes tightly.

"Yout two better be dressed or I'm leaving!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I might not be updating until after Christmas break... Sorry about that.
> 
> If I don't, have a merry Christmas everyone! :P


	9. Thomas's Birthday (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise post!! Merry Christmas!!! This is my present to you guys for all the support you've shown me throughout my writing of this~ I'll be posting Part 2 of this as soon as I can.

Thomas jumped slightly at the sound of Minho's voice and he really hoped he wasn't blushing again. He'd been doing that around the little time he'd spent with Newt more than he had in the rest of his entire life. Thomas glanced towards the doorway where the Asian was standing with his eyes squeezed shut ( _Minho seriously doesn't hear the game?_ ), paused the game, and opened his mouth to tell his friend that they were just playing Mario Kart, but Newt's hand suddenly covering his mouth stopped him. He was grinned deviously. Thomas frowned in confusion, but Newt placed a finger over his own lips and slowly drew his hands away from Thomas's mouth.

'Follow my lead,' he mouthed to the brunet, smirking. Before Thomas could question what the hell Newt meant by that, the blond set the Wii remote on the carpet and began making horrifyingly sexual noises. Thomas was certain that he was blushing now. Newt sent him a small grin and nodded. Thomas bit his lip to stifle a laugh before he joined in the prank.

"Oh _fuck_ , Newt," he moaned, wiggling a bit to make the couch creak slightly. Newt raised a hand to his mouth to muffle his laughter. He smirked and glanced over at Minho, who's face was wrinkled up in disgust and his hands were clasped over his ears. Newt raised his voice, intentionally cracking it during certain words.

"T-Tommy,  _right_ there," Newt whimpered. Said whimper grew into a full blown, throaty moan, and Minho cringed slightly. Thomas felt his cheeks darkening, and he had to admit, he was somewhat impressed that Newt could make such noises when he  _wasn't_ being ravished. This only made Thomas think:  _What does he sound like when he_ is _?_

Newt nudged Thomas's arm. Thomas cleared his throat silently and did his best to lower his voice to a husky tone. He failed miserably. "Oh, God, Newt-" Thomas's words dissolved into laughter when he heard Newt's soft chuckling beside him. Minho opened his eyes in confusion and when he saw his friends sitting on Thomas's couch with every article of clothing still covering their body, he scowled.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny," he snapped sarcastically, kicking his shoes off by the door and ambling over to the sofa. Thomas grinned and Newt was still laughing softly.

"Sorry, Min." He didn't sound very sorry at all. "But, in my defense, it was _Newt's_ idea, not mine." Newt's laughter stopped abruptly and he glared at the brunet, playfully slapping him on the back of the head.

"You weren't supposed to tell him, Tommy. I thought we were in this together," Newt gasped dramatically. Minho snorted and shook his head. He then glanced over and noticed the television was paused. His smile morphed into a huge grin.

"Playing Mario Kart, huh? I guess that would explain the weird noises better than... whatever else they could have been," Minho muttered the last part under his breath, but intentionally was loud enough for the others to hear. Minho ignored the slightly offended look on Thomas's face with a smirk and turned around to get himself a Wii remote.

"What's  _that_ supposed to mean?" Minho had been expecting the worst to come from Thomas, but, surprisingly, it was Newt who'd spoken. Minho turned around and winked, stepping around the coffee table to flop down on the couch on Thomas's other side, sandwiching the brunet in between his two friends.

"It means, there's no way in _hell_ Thomas would ever be confident enough to hit that," Minho gestured to Newt's body. The blond's face reddened just slightly. Minho shrugged. "I mean, don't take it personally or anything; Thomas isn't confident enough to hit up  _anyone_. It gets annoying, really. You'd think, as a soccer player, he'd be more of a player, but he's still an innocent little baby-"

Thomas's blush deepened with every word, but he finally cut Minho off with a 'perhaps-a-bit-too-hard-to-be-playful' kick to the shin. Minho didn't continue his sentence, but winked and turned back to the game. He grabbed the Wii U controller off the floor and went back to the menu.

"If we're playing Mario Kart, count me in."

* * *

"Tom. Hey, Tom, wake up!" Teresa popped her head into Thomas's bedroom, rolling her eyes fondly at her still half-asleep brother. He rubbed his eyes like a small child and sat up, clearing his throat and yawning before finally speaking.

"Wha..? What time is it?" Thomas asked, his voice gravelly from lack of use. He glanced over at the alarm clock sat on his bedside table, which shone with bright red numbers to answer his question.

"It's seven twenty. Now get your ass out of bed and get ready. Minho called me to let you know he's picking you up early today," Teresa explained. She stepped away from the doorway and a few footsteps could be heard creaking along the hallway, growing further away, before they stopped. Then they sounded again, but instead of going away, they were coming closer. Teresa peaking her head into Thomas's room once again, grinning.

"Happy Birthday, by the way," she added before actually leaving. Thomas frowned and it took a few seconds for his brain to catch up with him, but when it did, he huffed and clambered to his feet. To the brunet, his birthday wasn't really all that different from any other day (it was just a day, after all). The main thing Thomas hated about his birthday was the one-day-only publicity ( _seriously, just because it's my birthday doesn't mean people suddenly have a reason to like me_ ).

If fact, the only actual thing that Thomas found relatively interesting was that it was finally Friday, and that the boys' soccer team had their first game tomorrow (it was a home game versus the Lakeland Eagles). Oh, and that he, Chuck, and Newt had completely aced their Shakespeare project.

"Come on, Thomas, hurry up!" Teresa was beginning to sound agitated. Thomas stretched his arms over his head and yawned once more, wrapping his arms around his torso in an attempt to regain some of the warmth he'd left in his blankets.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm up," Thomas grumbled. He checked the time once more before deciding he had enough time to shower, exiting his room and walking down the hallway to enter the bathroom. He was done in five minutes, a towel wrapped around his waist as he shuffled back to his room, water droplets still trickling down his skin. Thomas dried off rather quickly and threw on the first pair of clothes he saw hanging in his closet (a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans).

Thomas glanced over at his alarm clock, cursed, and rushed around to tug on his usual jacket, not bothering to zip it up as he unplugged his school laptop from its charger and set it gently in his backpack. As he was checking that everything was in his backpack, Teresa walked in, holding a plate of syrupy waffles and a fork in one hand, a glass of chocolate milk in the other.

"Mom stayed home from work today. She made us breakfast, but she told me to bring you yours because you were taking too long."

"Teresa, it's barely been fifteen minutes since you woke me up." Teresa shrugged and walked over to set the food on Thomas's bedside table, right between his alarm clock and where his cell phone lay.

"Minho'll be out the door and on his way in five minutes, Tom," she stated before leaving, having the common decency to close the door behind her. Thomas sat down on his bed and pulled the plate of waffles into his lap, grabbing his phone in the process and noticing that while he had nothing from Minho, he had two missed texts from Newt.

**(7:09 AM) Newt: Happy Birthday, Tommy.**

**(7:13 AM) Newt: By the way, why didn't you tell me it was your birthday today? Bloody Minho had to tell me a week ago.**

Thomas took a few moments to think about how to respond before finally deciding to just tell Newt the truth.

**(7:38 AM) Thomas: Sorry. I just didn't want you to have to go through the trouble to get me something. Plus I really don't like how people use birthdays as excuses to be nice. Shouldn't people always be nice to each other?**

Thomas sighed and set his phone down beside him, finishing off his waffles and chocolate milk. He hummed quietly, tapping his foot on the ground. It wouldn't be a bad day, he was sure of it. There was a 95% chance of a thunderstorm that afternoon, so it was likely that soccer practice would be cancelled (and it would probably make for a muddy field during their game tomorrow, which was _always_ fun). Thomas sighed and ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, pulling on his converse and leaving his room to go brush his teeth.

"Thomas, honey, Minho's here!" Thomas's mother, Sarah, called upstairs, just as the brunet had placed his toothbrush back into its holder. Thomas rushed back to his room, slung his backpack on, shoved his phone into his pocket, and grabbed his empty plate and glass. He hurried out of his bedroom and down the staircase, nearly slipping on the carpeted stairs a few times. The brunet entered the kitchen to see his mom sat at the dinner table, nursing a mug of hot chocolate (his family wasn't really much for coffee). She looked up when he, loudly, entered the room. She beamed and nudged something towards him on the table. It was a clumsily wrapped present.

"Happy sixteenth Birthday, Tom," she said, placing her mug on the table and taking Thomas's syrupy plate and empty glass from his hands before he could protest. "I've got it. I expect you to open that," she nodded over at the gift, "when you get home. Don't do anything too stupid with your friends; you were moved up a grade in middle school for a reason. Have a wonderful day!"

"Thanks mom, I will," Thomas smiled, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek before walking over to the front door. "Bye!" Thomas exiting the building and immediately noticed Minho's truck, still running, parked on the side of the road. The owner of said truck leaned out the window and grinned.

"Get your shuck butt in here, we saved the passengers' seat for ya. We're getting you to school early so you can open a few presents before school starts," Minho explained. Thomas raised an eyebrow, confused as to who "we" was. Minho seemed to notice his expression, for he gestured towards the backseats. Chuck and Newt poked their heads forward; Chuck waved.

"Alright, I'm coming," Thomas chuckled, plodding over to the truck and walking around to get into the passengers' seat. He closed the door after him and buckled up, glancing back as he did so. Newt was grinning, and Chuck seemed to be bouncing impatiently in his seat. Thomas slid his arms out of his backpack straps and set the bag on his lap, sparing a small look over at Minho. The Asian was smiling widely and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Before driving away from Thomas's house, he smirked and turned on the radio, shutting the windows and cranking up the volume. Everyone in the vehicle immediately recognized the song (even though it was halfway over), and they all, including Thomas, began singing loudly and off key.

"But I would walk five hundred miles, and I would walk five hundred more! Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door!"

* * *

It only took Thomas two minutes (about the time for the song to end) to figure out that they definitely were not on their way to the school. When Thomas pointed this out, Minho just grinned and said that all of their parents (Chuck's included) had called them in sick that day. Now, Thomas had experienced many incidents where Minho had gotten them into trouble for skipping, but he trusted the Asian, so he just relaxed, allowed Newt to set his backpack on the empty seat between him and Chuck, and joined the rest of his friends in singing along to  _Hello_ by Adele.

The song hadn't even finished when Minho turned off the radio and pulled into a mostly empty parking lot. Thomas looked up and instantly knew where they were, and soon he was grinning because he absolutely  _loved_ the Maze. It was definitely not the most well known movie theater in the area, as it was a very small theater, but it was most certainly Thomas's (and Minho's) favorite. They had really comfy, reclinable leather chairs. It was much cheaper than The Silverlight Cinema (the only other theater in town), too.

"So I take it  _this_ is why you made me get up earlier than usual?" Thomas smiled, leaning forward to get a better view of the building. Minho smirked and nodded, reaching into his pocket to reveal two movie tickets. He handed one to Thomas.

"Newt, Chuck, and I bought ours, and we all pitched in to get yours. Now hurry up or we'll miss the previews!" Minho exclaimed, putting his truck in park and hopping out. Newt and Chuck climbed over the seats and got out as well. Thomas grinned and followed suit, pulling his phone out of his back pocket to turn it on silent.

"What movie are we watching?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have laptops at our school, so I just went with this because modern day and technology and shit.


	10. Thomas's Birthday (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Jurassic World and Big Hero 6 if you haven't seen them yet.

By the time they exited the movie theater at 10:20, it was pouring outside, just as the weather app on Thomas's phone had predicted. The boys leaving the Maze, however, paid this no mind, grinning as they casually walked through the rain to Minho's truck.

"But seriously! I loved the raptors! I really want one. Why'd they have to kill all of them except Blue?" Thomas pouted, ushering Chuck and Newt into the vehicle so he could climb in, the teens all dripping with rain water. Newt chuckled and shrugged.

"I don't know, but I have to say, Blue is a fucking badass," he grinned. Thomas hummed in agreement and rested the side of his head on the window beside him, sighing.

"The ending was cool though. I never thought that the water dinosaur would kill the Indominus Rex. That was freaking awesome!" he said, taking his head back off of the window and running a hand through his sopping hair. "So, Minho, where to next, O Designated Driver?"

Minho rolled his eyes and pulled out of the parking lot, back onto the not-very-busy street, flipping on his windshield wipers. "Well, Tomboy, we still got the whole day ahead of us. But I'm not gonna lie, you know what sounds fun right now? Bowling."

* * *

 "What the hell? There's no way you're doing that lovin' good, Minho," Newt accused, glaring as a large  _X_ blinked on the TV screen above them, symbolizing a strike. Minho wheeled around to face the other three boys and grinned, hopping down from the slightly raised platform and strutting exaggeratedly over to the nearest table (which the boys had already covered with their drinks and cheesy fries), flopping down in a plastic chair and taking a sip of his Coke.

"Well, what can I say? I'm a pro," he smirked, glancing up at the TV screen to look at the current scores. Minho was in the lead by far, with the score of 232; behind him was Chuck, his current score being 121. Then there was Thomas and Newt. Neither of them were very good, obviously, but at least Newt was hitting a few pins every round. Thomas had had at least four or five gutter balls so far, and his total score amounted to a whopping 57. So yeah, Thomas wasn't very good at bowling.

"Okay, last round. Gee, wonder who's gonna win," Thomas snorted with a roll of his eyes. "Chuck, you're up." The youngest boy stepped up to the platform and grinned, laughing quietly.

"Wow, Thomas. I never would have thought you were so bad at bowling," he snickered. Thomas glared at him and shook his head, mocking a pout and walking over to stand next to Newt.

"This game is such bull. I think Minho's been secretly taking lessons," Thomas huffed, unable to prevent a smile forming on his face when Chuck skillfully hit every pin. Between Minho's taunts, Newt's playful complaining, and Chuck's teasing, Thomas was truly having a wonderful time. Newt nodded and folded his arms across his chest, glancing over at a small clock on the wall for what had to've been the hundredth shuck time by now; at least, that Thomas had noticed. The brunet raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat to gain Newt's attention. The older boy's head snapped sharply over to Thomas.

"You gonna be late for somethin'?" Thomas teased lightly. The brunet rolled his eyes when Newt grinned and shrugged, avoiding answering his question by stepping up to the platform as it was, conveniently, the blond's turn. Newt lifted his bowling ball -- colored a dark blue with white swirls -- from the ball return and waiting for the pins to reset before taking a quick glance up at the scores. With his current score of 74, it would be literally impossible for him to win. Newt positioned himself carefully and rolled the ball.

Thomas watched wide-eyed as the ball rolled almost directly down the center of the lane, thinking: _oh, he nailed it_. Towards the end of its journey to the pins, however, the ball began rolling sideways and only ended up taking out four of the ten pins (the farthest ones to the left). Newt cursed, but seemed satisfied when one of the falling pins caught two others and resulted in six pins being knocked over. He hummed and turned around, waiting for his ball to roll back into the return so that he could go for his second attempt.

"Well, Newt, you're not as bad as Thomas, at least," Minho stated in a consoling voice, grinning when said brunet lightly punched him in the shoulder. Newt chuckled and shook his head.

"Maybe not in bowling, but I'm sure he could kick  _both_ of our arses in any type of board game that has to do with strategy," Newt pointed out. Minho's low grumbling told Newt he was correct in that statement.

"Yeah, well, the ugly shank could  _never_ match up to me in Cards Against Humanity." Thomas knew it was only a matter of minutes until Minho brought up his favorite card game. Newt snorted a laugh.

"Oh yeah, I'm assuming no one could bloody beat  _you_ at that game," the blond allowed. He reached down and lifted his bowling ball, sassily adding, "except perhaps myself."

Thomas swore he'd never seen Minho look so taken aback. His eyebrows shot up and he exchanged glances with Thomas (who was watching, amused, from the sidelines), his hands finding their common resting places on his hips. "Oh  _really?_ Is that a challenge, Newton?"

Newt spun around after he'd rolled, a mischievous grin crinkling the corners of his eyes and painting his lips. Not that Thomas had been looking at his lips.

"You bloody  _know_ it is," Newt smirked. He glanced behind him to see his ball waver slightly before sliding into the left gutter. He exhaled slowly and shook his head. "Bugger. I'm absolutely rubbish at bowling."

"You know that your frustration makes your accent impossible to understand, right?" Minho stated brazenly. Thomas sighed and smiled, giving Chuck a small shrug before turning back to the other two. Honestly; if Minho had long enough hair, Thomas was about two-hundred and fifty percent sure he would have done the sassy hair flip to complete his statement.

"Okay, okay, that's enough ladies," Chuck piped up before the sass battle could commence (Thomas liked Newt and all, but he was sure Minho would win should that ever happen). "Let's hurry up and finish here. We still got a certain thing we have to do."

"What do we have to do?" Thomas questioned, semi-confused by the change in conversation. He felt an intense burning feeling (that most _definitely_ was not jealousy) slam into his gut and twist his insides when Minho and Newt exchanged knowing glances. " _What_?"

Minho just grinned and pulled out his phone, tapping the screen rapidly. Whom he was texting, Thomas had no idea. "Oh, you'll see, shank."

* * *

 

After finishing up their game, Thomas was ushered into Minho’s truck by all of his friends. Every one of them was beaming, and Thomas was sure that Newt and Chuck were having some whispered conversation in the backseat.

“Seriously, Minho, what’s so important that-”

“I have an idea,” Newt interrupted, poking his head between the driver’s and passenger’s seats. Thomas turned to face him, eyebrows raised. Minho spared a glance to his side but mostly kept his eyes on the wet road; it still hadn’t stopped raining, though it was beginning to let up a bit.

“Five questions,” the blond stated. “Five questions that we have to answer, but you only get five, so ask wisely.”

Thomas furrowed his brow and bit his lower lip, contemplating. “Okay. Um... Is the thing we have to do something big?”

“Depends on what do you mean by ‘ _big_ ’.”

“Like, is it something really amazing or...?” Thomas trailed off, and Minho snorted beside him.

“To you, definitely.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow at that, but decided not to comment. “Uh, okay, well... Is this ‘amazing’ thing happening at a place I’ve been to?”

Chuck giggled. “I sure hope so.”

“Yeah, you’ve certainly been to the place, Tommy,” Newt stated with a smile. The brunet sighed exasperatedly and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly. He huffed and frowned.

“Hmm.... Will there be other people there besides us?”

Minho nodded and spared a glance over at Thomas. “Yeah, but you’ve only got two more questions; make ‘em good ones.”

Thomas ended up asking about money and games, both receiving ‘no’s in response. Thomas threw his arms up and grumbled. He honestly had no idea.

“You guys should just tell me,” he muttered. Newt grinned and shook his head, patting him on the shoulder.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise, Tommy. Besides, we’re almost there, anyway.” Now _that_ statement had Thomas peering out the window, past the rivulets of raindrops, and at his surroundings. It was true, he did recognize the street they were currently on, but his knowledge of where they were only succeeded in amplifying his confusion.

“Why’re we going back to my house?” No one answered Thomas’s question, and Minho pulled into Thomas’s driveway, parking his vehicle behind the brunet’s dad’s black 2002 Lincoln LS. Thomas frowned when he noticed that his dad’s vehicle was parked in the driveway. He was rarely home when Thomas was, aside from the weekends. The brunet grinned.

“Okay, get out. And hurry,” Minho added, “don’t want anyone drowning.”

Thomas heard Newt snort from the backseat and he himself rolled his eyes at Minho’s humor. “Okay, hotshot, you get out first.”

Minho saluted and unbuckled, pocketing his keys, taking a deep breath as though he was about to dive into a swimming pool, and opening the door. He released a battle cry and slid out of his seat, sprinting to the front door of Thomas’s house without bothering to shut the driver’s door after him.

Thomas quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and hopped out as well, immediately being pelted with huge raindrops, soaking his damp clothes (which had only recently began drying after the walk out of the bowling alley).

“Hurry up, guys!” he shouted back at Chuck and Newt, who were scrambling over the front seats to climb out. Thomas rounded Minho’s truck and shut the driver side door forcefully, pushing his sopping hair out of his eyes. At that point, Newt and Chuck were already out and the latter had shut the passenger’s door, racing towards the house, uselessly holding his hands over his head as if to shelter himself from the rain.

Thomas laughed cheerfully and grinned up at the sky. He’d always had a love for rain; the pitter patters on the roof had lulled him to sleep many-a-times. He looked back over to the front door and jogged over, only glancing up again when a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky. Newt was holding the door open for him, and he shut it as soon as Thomas was inside, shaking his head like a wet dog.

“God, I hate rain,” Minho huffed from the living room, a towel already draped across his broad shoulders. Thomas smiled, slipping off his drenched shoes (not that his socks were any drier) and running his fingers through his hair. His mom soon made an appearance rushing down the stairs, arms full of towels. She handed one to each of them, aside from Minho who already had one. Thomas hummed his thanks, vigorously ruffling his hair with the towel, bent over slightly.

When he straightened up, Chuck looked over at him, opening his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a squeaky laugh. He pointed up at Thomas’s hair and hiccuped. Thomas raised an eyebrow, but Chuck shook his head. Newt looked over at the small commotion and chuckled quietly.

“Plan on keepin’ your hair like that? ‘cause I must say, Tommy, it really suits you,” he laughed, nudging Minho to look. The athlete peered over and snorted a laugh, shaking his head.

“God, you look ridiculous. Literally, your hair is sticking up everywhere; it’s messier than Newt’s usually is,” Minho said. Newt glared, though it held no heat behind it.

“Oh, you boys and your sass,” Thomas’s mom tutted, smiling.

“Just Minho,” Thomas commented. He hummed and seemed to think about what he’d said. “Well, Newt too.”

“Aww, thanks Tommy, that’s so sweet of you,” Newt cooed. Thomas wasn’t entirely sure if he was being sarcastic or not. With the heavy accent, it was hard to tell at times.

“Hey, Mrs. Agnes, you don’t happen to have a spare towel, do you?” Chuck asked hopefully, rubbing the white towel he was currently holding over his face. Thomas’s mom nodded.

“Of course, Chuck. And call me Sarah, please,” she smiled warmly, turning around to go up the stairs and retrieve another towel. Minho sighed and kicked off his shoes before shuffling into the living room, flattening out his damp towel on the floor and sitting down cross-legged.

“God, I love your mom, Thomas. She’s so nice,” Minho grinned. “Seriously; mine would _kill_ me if I got our carpet wet. You know how she is.”

Thomas nodded and proceeded to do the same thing as Minho, laying out his towel on the carpet and sitting down on it. Soon, all four boys were sat on the floor. Thomas pulled his phone out of his inside jacket pocket, checking the time. It was only 12:39, but the brunet wasn’t all that hungry for lunch because of the snacks he and his friends had had at the bowling alley.

Thomas glanced up from his phone to look at the other teens sitting around. Minho was running his fingers through his hair as though attempting to fix his quiff, Chuck was staring down at his lap, twiddling his fingers, and Newt was zoning out, staring at the wall by the stairs.

“Okay, I’m back!” Thomas’s mom sang, snapping Newt out of his daze and causing Chuck to look up. He smiled and nodded, accepting the new towel gratefully.

“Thanks, Mrs. A- I mean, Sarah,” Chuck smiled. She nodded and turned to Thomas, raising an eyebrow.

“Tom, you should go upstairs and see if your friends want to change. I know Minho has a stash of clothes he’s left here over the years, and I’m sure you can find something for Chuck and Newt.”

“Oh yeah. You were supposed to bring those to school so I could get them back, you know,” the youngest boy commented. Thomas shrugged, saying a small “I just forgot” before standing up, bringing his towel with him. He was still curious as to whatever this ‘amazing’ thing that had yet to happen was, but he held his tongue.

“Alright, come on,” Thomas slung his towel over his shoulders and gestured for his friends to follow him up the stairs. Once in the brunet’s (mostly clean) bedroom, Minho was almost immediately digging through a crumpled pile of laundry that was almost hidden in one of the corners of Thomas's closet.

Thomas walked around his bed and grabbed a gym bag from off the floor, tossing it over to Chuck.

“I’m pretty sure my mom even washed your clothes for you,” Thomas added. Chuck opened the bag and sniffed, nodding in confirmation. He exited the room, presumably to change in the bathroom down the hall. Finally, Thomas turned to Newt.

“Well, I know you don’t have any clothes here, but I’m sure you’ll fit in some of my stuff. It shouldn’t be too big on you,” Thomas explained. He took a few moments to rummage through one of his dressers, pulling out a pair of folded grey sweatpants. The blond instantly recognized them as the pair Thomas had worn when Newt had come over to watch _The Lion King_ for their English project. The Brit distinctly remembered admiring Thomas’s ass in those.

Thomas walked over to his closet and side-stepped around Minho, pulling a maroon t-shirt off of its hanger and handing both pieces of clothing to Newt.

The blond set them on Thomas’s bed and held up the shirt to look at it, as it had white printed writing on it. ‘HOW TO KEEP AN IDIOT BUSY (see back)’ is what it read. Newt turned the shirt around, raising an eyebrow as he read: ‘HOW TO KEEP AN IDIOT BUSY (see front)’.

“Wow, Tommy, nice shirt,” he snorted, shaking his head lightly. Thomas grinned and shrugged. He gestured to Minho over his shoulder.

“Hey, it works on him.”

“Thomas, if you’re gonna talk about me behind my back, literally, you should probably not do it when we’re in the same shuck room, you shank,” Minho scoffed, though he sounded anything but angry. Thomas turned around and opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t think of anything to say. He closed his mouth and settled for simply shaking his head. Minho chuckled and proceeded to pulling off the wet shirt he was wearing, flinging it to the floor.

“Jeez, you don’t have to strip for us to prove your bloody point,” Newt stated cheekily. Minho snorted, tugging a wrinkled green t-shirt over his head.

“You wish.” Thomas decided to find himself a pair of clothes and get changed instead of standing and silently observing the impending sass war. He was seriously dreading it, though he also was looking forward to it. If it even happened, that is.

Thomas rifled through the same dresser he’d gotten his sweatpants out of and pulled out a similar pair of sweats, though these ones were black rather than light grey. He shoved past Minho to get to his closet, earning a small huff from his friend. Thomas rummaged through his shirts, randomly grabbing a dark blue, almost black t-shirt before shutting the door. He, once again, stepped around Minho, who was struggling to hop into a pair of jeans.

Thomas rolled his eyes but said nothing, setting his chosen articles of clothing on his bed, pulling his dripping shirt off his body and throwing it beside where Minho’s shirt had landed. Might as well put them in a pile so they’d be able to find them later.

The boys changed quickly, not really speaking up until they were all fully clothed.

“Alright, we good?” Minho grinned once everyone in the room was fully dressed. He clapped his hands together and nodded. Thomas walked around the room and collected everyone’s towels, throwing them on the wet pile of clothes now in the center of his bedroom. At that moment, Thomas’s dad’s muffled voice was talking through the door.

“You boys comin’ down stairs? We’re gonna watch a movie,” he stated. Minho whooped and yanked open the door, nearly knocking Thomas’s father down in his haste to rush down the stairs.

“Sorry James!” Minho called up in apology. Thomas’s dad raised an eyebrow and turned to his son. Thomas just shook his head and exited the room, Newt following behind him.

“Oh, I don’t think we’ve met before. Are you a new friend of Thomas’s?” James questioned politely. Thomas stopped a few steps down and turned, silently watching the interaction.

Newt nodded and took the hand Thomas’s father was offering for a firm handshake. “Yeah, actually. I’m Newt. S’nice to meet you,” he said. Thomas’s dad nodded and pulled his hand away.

“British, eh?” he teased. “Well, I’m glad Thomas is making some more friends besides just Minho and Chuck. It’s nice to see new faces ‘round here sometimes-”

“James! Are you interrogating Thomas’s friends again?” Sarah called upstairs. Thomas chuckled and his father simply rolled his eyes in a good-natured way, plodding down the stairs. Thomas glanced up at Newt, who was smiling. The blond followed Thomas down the staircase once he finally adverted his gaze. Thomas could feel excitement bubbling up in him, a small bounce to his step when he all but skipped over to the entertainment center.

Thomas’s parent’s were already sat in the two armchairs on either side of the three-cushioned sofa, obviously so that the boys could all sit together. Minho and Chuck were already sat down, the TV paused and the remote lying on the coffee table in front of the couch. Thomas wondered what movie they were going to be watching.

“Is this my amazing surprise, then?” Thomas asked, watching as Newt collapsed next to Chuck, who was on the middle cushion; Minho sat to his left. Said raven-haired boy shook his head in response and propped his feet up on the coffee table, reaching for the remote. Thomas’s parents watched silently, amused expressions on their faces.

“No, course not, shuck-face. Just sit your butt down so we can watch the movie,” Newt spoke. Thomas raised an eyebrow and gestured to the couch.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” he asked. Minho rolled his eyes and pressed play on the remote, obviously tired of waiting, even if it’d only been a few minutes. Newt sighed and nudged Chuck slightly for him to scoot towards Minho. He tapped the tiny space of open cushion beside him. The space was about big enough to fit one of Thomas’s legs; that was it.

Thomas huffed and saw that everyone else was watching the intro to the movie, aside from Newt and himself. Deciding he’d rather not sit on the floor, as that was his only other option, he hesitantly sat down, half of his butt on Newt’s lap. The blond snorted and shook his head, though he was grinning.

“Such a bloody doof,” Newt breathed. Thomas chose to ignore it and focused on the television, leaning slightly so he wasn’t blocking Newt’s view of the screen. Thomas recognized the movie. His face broke out into a wide grin, beaming at the people in the room. Another favorite Disney movie of his: _Big Hero 6._

* * *

“You got some big feet, shank.”

“Be quiet, Minho!” Thomas hushed, his full attention on the TV. Hiro had just discovered that Callaghan was the villain and-

“Tommy, if you’re gonna use me as a lovin’ pillow, at least bloody stop movin’ around,” Newt chided quietly. Thomas readjusted his head on the arm of the couch, his body sprawled across Minho, Chuck, and Newt. Thomas had his hands folded on his stomach, trying to concentrate on the movie. Newt had no where comfortable to place his own hands (or, at least, Thomas thought so) since the brunet had taken up all the space, so he ended up resting his hands on Thomas’s chest.

It wasn’t that uncomfortable.

 

The rest of the movie passed by in relative silence, only broken by the shocked gasps from Newt and Minho (both of which hadn’t seen the movie before). Then it got to the point where Hiro had to leave Baymax, and Thomas’s vision was blurring and _goddammit_ he swore to himself he’d try not to cry this time.

He heard a small sniffle from someone else on the couch and he tore his eyes from the television screen. It was Chuck. He wasn’t crying (he knew exactly what was going to happen), but he was close. Thomas said nothing. Minho appeared upset, but not to the point of shedding tears. Newt seemed the most shaken of everyone, tears wetting his eyelashes, moistening his eyes.

Thomas bit his tongue to keep himself from spoiling the ending of the movie to make Newt feel better. The blond would find out soon, anyway. Instead, he placed his left hand on Newt’s right and gently ran his thumb over the back of the blond’s hand. He felt the blond tense, then relax, releasing a shuddering breath.

Thomas just kept his eyes on the TV.

* * *

“That movie was sad,” Minho commented, getting up and stretching out his arms. Thomas scoffed, rubbing his eyes like a small child would. Chuck nudged him slightly and he sat up, scooting himself back so that he was no longer on Minho or the younger boy. Consequently, he was fully sitting in Newt’s lap.

Thomas blinked a few times, his eyes meeting Newt’s. The blond raised his eyebrows and, had Thomas not actually seen it, he wouldn’t have believed the older boy had been crying about fifteen minutes before.

“Yeah, but the ending was good,” the blond hummed. “Now, Tommy, ya wouldn’t mind, ya know, _getting off_ , would you?”

Thomas took a second or two to process Newt’s words, yelping and staggering to his feet, face red. Minho laughed, and Thomas shot him a glare. He felt a tingle of déjà vu, the moment reminding him of the first day of school when Newt sat at their table during lunch.

“Well, I don’t know about you shanks, but I’m starting to get kinda hungry.”

“Minho, it’s only three,” Newt remarked, standing up. The Asian shrugged. Sarah walked over to grab the remote, switched off the TV.

“How about you go look for something to eat then, Minho. James, come upstairs with me.” Something flashed across her face, but it was gone before Thomas could identify it. He paid it no mind as his parents marched up the stairs. He sat back down on the couch instead, taking his phone off the coffee table and unlocking it, scrolling through his unread texts. He didn’t have many, and the majority of them were his friends (such as Frypan, Winston, Brenda, hell, even Ben from his soccer team, who he thought didn’t like him anymore) saying ‘Happy Birthday’ or something of the like.

Newt sat down beside Thomas, elbowed him in the side. Thomas looked up from his phone, clicking it off and placing it back on the table.

“C’mere,” Newt stated. He grabbed Thomas by the upper arm and stood up, bringing Thomas with him. Newt took a few steps away from the couch, in between the sofa and one of the armchairs. He pointed at the floor. “Sit.”

When Thomas didn’t, Newt huffed a sigh and placed his hands on the brunet’s shoulders, lightly pushing him to sit down on the carpet. Thomas allowed him to, confusion written plainly across his face.

“What-”

Then he heard it. Small whines and snuffles. The sounds proceeded to get louder, and Thomas looked towards the noise, eyes on the staircase. Then his dad and mom appeared, grinning. His mom was grinning, her arms folded across her chest. His dad held a video camera in his hands. It was recording.

“Dad, Mom, wha-”

Then his sister was there, at the bottom of the stairs. Except she wasn’t holding a camera, or crossing her arms. She was holding a puppy.

“Happy Birthday, Thomas,” Minho grinned, leaning against the wall beside the stairs. Thomas hadn’t even seen him move. His eyes widened, mouth dropped open.

“You... You guys got me a _puppy_?” he breathed. Teresa nodded and walked over, set the little dog in Thomas’s lap. It was a labrador retriever; at least, that’s what Thomas assumed. It had a beautiful yellow coat, with little paws, little ears, a little snout; the pup was so _tiny_. The puppy already had a black collar around its neck.

“He’s a boy, by the way,” Chuck added. “Doesn’t have a name, yet, though.”

Thomas stared down at the pup in his lap. He whuffed quietly, clumsily pawing at Thomas’s pant leg. The brunet felt himself tearing up. “Oh my god, he’s so _cute_.”

Collective chuckles sounded from around the room, and everyone watched as the lil’ pup climbed up onto Thomas’s leg, balancing on his thigh. It looked up at the brunet, eyes wide. The puppy cocked his head to the side slightly. Thomas mimicked the action. The tiny puppy dog seemed to take this as a challenge, growling adorably, the sound high-pitched.

Thomas set him on the floor a few feet away, and the puppy hopped around a bit, growling and rearing back on his hind legs. Thomas chuckled softly, dragging his fingers across the carpet, grabbing at the dog’s paws. The puppy woofed happily, growling playfully, nipping at Thomas’s fingers.

“Oh my _God_ ,” he whispered. He looked up from the pup, tears in his eyes, grinning. His dad shifted the camera, still recording. “He’s so perfect.”

Thomas’s mom smiled, nodded. She took a small step forward, hands on her hips. “Now, Tom, you have to take responsibility and take care of him, alright? I’m not going to start preaching, but remember that this puppy is _yours_ now.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Thomas mumbled. He gently scooped the puppy up into his arms. The dog stared up at him; Thomas stared back.

Then the pup’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, and his licked Thomas’s chin. The brunet laughed, running his fingers through the puppy’s fur, thinking.

“I think... Sam... would be a good name.” The puppy seemed to perk up slightly, tilting his head. “You like that? Sammy?”

The puppy whuffed. That was good enough for Thomas.

“Sam it is, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay on this chapter, I had a bit of a down time where I was really unmotivated, but I finally managed to get this chapter out.
> 
> This chapter is much longer than usual, but I don't plan to write the rest of them so long.


	11. HIATUS

Guys, this is important. So, I've been trying really hard, I honestly have, to keep this story going. But after I posted that last chapter of Thomas's Birthday... I don't know, I really just don't feel this story anymore. I got halfway through a chapter eleven, but I hated the direction it was going, and I don't want to force myself to keep updating.

I don't know if I'll come back to this story, I probably will, but for now, I'm officially putting it on HIATUS. I'm so sorry for anyone keeping up with it, but I don't know when I'll be posting again. In the mean time, I might post some other Newtmas fan fictions though.

Like I said, I'm very sorry if this makes anyone upset.

~Please_Tommy_Please


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